


And Maybe You're My Snowflake

by scribblemymind



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - College/University, Fluff, M/M, Painter!Zayn, musician!niall, this is really short
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-04
Updated: 2013-03-04
Packaged: 2017-12-04 07:13:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 967
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/707995
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/scribblemymind/pseuds/scribblemymind
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The first time Zayn met Niall was when he ran into the other boy—quite literally—after getting out of one of his classes at Uni.</p>
            </blockquote>





	And Maybe You're My Snowflake

**Author's Note:**

> just a really short little ziall with painter!zayn and musician!niall.

The first time Zayn met Niall was when he ran into the other boy—quite literally—after getting out of one of his classes at Uni. He was at a school of the arts. The classes were in all different buildings, the music students in the far East building, the drama students in the main building, and the art students in the building north of the main one.  
  
Liquid colour was splattered, smudges of purple and grey on his arms, and Zayn was rushing to get his paints organized and packed up. Sprinting out through the doorway, he quickly started towards the main building where his dorm was located. He didn’t see the blur of blonde hair come from the left of him, he just felt the collision and a pointy elbow in his rib.  
  
At first glance, Zayn would have liked to paint a picture, a memory of the moment at hand. A young man, around his age, a mass of blonde hair illuminated by the sun. Brushing off his trousers, the stranger lifted himself off the ground and oh, Zayn saw the most beautiful blue eyes he’s ever seen in all his life. Zayn wanted to capture the picture, but he then realized it wouldn’t be anywhere close to how beautiful the real moment was. Those eyes, they were as deep and as calming as the tones mixed together on Zayn’s palette, the colours mixing about to create an unforgettable shade, the right combinations of the right colours and _oh_ , Zayn could just get lost in his eyes.  
  
And then the stranger spoke.  
  
“I’m Niall, I’m sorry for knockin’ you over! I’ll help gather your stuff up right now.”  
  
Zayn hadn’t even noticed how his carefully replaced tubes of paints have scattered all across the dusty ground, his attention was captured by the boy in front of him. As Niall stooped down to pick up some of the supplies, the sun was just at the right place to catch on blonde hair, much like a halo. Beautiful, Zayn thought to himself. He’s beautiful. Like an angel.  
  
Niall was trying to clumsily place the paints back into the box they belonged in, using only one hand, the other supporting a guitar. Musician; Zayn’s thoughts spun around in his head, as he chuckled and wordlessly, a nimble set of fingers joined the first. There was a brush of fingertips, soft, steady painter’s fingers, brushing against calloused, yet delicate ones. The lightest touch of skin sent Zayn’s whole body into shivers and warmth crept up his arm, down his back and numbed his limbs.  
  
“So you’re from that building?”  
  
Zayn looked up, relieved that the boy wasn’t paying attention to his fumbling fingers; the simple act of Niall’s skin against his caused waves in his stomach that weren’t there moments ago, his body feeling like jello. His gaze settled on Niall’s thumb, pointing backwards at the art building, and he merely nodded, unable to get a sound out from his mouth.  
  
Zayn soon found his eyes travelling back to the incredibly attractive face of the boy in front of him, and found sea blue eyes already looking at him. Zayn ducked his head in embarrassment, but not before he saw Niall’s face break out into a goofy grin.  
  
And how his smile just shined and radiated off everything, and as soon as Zayn turned away, he had an urge to look back just to take one more look at the breathtaking grin.   
  
“You don’t talk much, d’ya?” Zayn shook his head at Niall, who was humming a happy tune to himself as he got up and stretched, his guitar in one hand, and his polo shirt rising up an inch or so to reveal flawless porcelain skin. Zayn wondered what it would look like, Niall’s beautiful pale skin tone contrasting with his own tanned skin, how beautiful they would look with their fingers intertwined, two shades of colours matching so perfectly with one another. Had he not realized what his mind had wandered to, Zayn wouldn’t have been able to look away from that strip of perfect skin right above Niall’s waistline; quickly flicking his eyes to the ghost of a smile on the other boy’s face, he realized, thankfully, that Niall hadn’t noticed him staring.  
  
“I’m Zayn.” He said suddenly, and watched as surprise and amusement flashed across Niall’s face, before he smiled that gorgeous smile that parted his perfect pink lips.  
  
Zayn would do anything to see that smile more often.  
  
“‘Ello Zayn! Nice t’ meet ya, I’m Niall.”  
  
“I know.”  
  
A chuckle arose from the blonde boy, a carelessly wonderful sound. As the both of them stood around, Niall was the first one to readjust his guitar and start walking the way he was off to, before he had crashed into Zayn.  
  
“Well I gotta head off.. If ya wanna come ‘nd talk t’ me some other time, just visit my building, I’ll probably be there,” Niall waved at Zayn, as a slow smile spread across his lips, like honey, sweet and thick. The sun angled once more to Niall’s figure as Zayn smiled, a delicate feeling arising from within him. He waved back, watching the other boy’s retreating figure.  
  
How he wished he could paint the sun hitting Niall, a spring to the step of the gorgeous boy. How he wished he could he could capture the charming features, the thin pink lips, those eyes, those cerulean pools that pulled him in and seized every ounce of his attention, from underneath long, dark lashes.  
  
How Zayn wished he could compose a piece of art to mimic the beauty of the boy, but he knew that couldn’t possibly be attainable. Niall was pure perfection in himself.  
  
Zayn might have fallen a little bit in love.


End file.
